


Checkmate

by TheSlytherinRose



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Engagement, F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 04:09:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7559518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSlytherinRose/pseuds/TheSlytherinRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione learns that Wizard's Chess may be an effective way to impress her future in-laws. (Post-war fluffy Dramione with a side of fluffy Lucissa. Written for a friend's birthday. Oneshot.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Checkmate

As Hermione watched the black chess piece shatter, its pieces clattering to the marble board beneath, the great swell of pride that had bubbled up within her momentarily was replaced by a ripple of fear. 

            Perhaps beating her future father-in-law at Wizard’s Chess was not the proper way to curry favor. 

            She glanced up from the board to find Lucius staring at it in complete shock, wide-eyed and unblinking.  Standing beside him, Narcissa had raised a hand to her mouth and laid the other on his shoulder in reassurance. 

            Hermione looked up at Draco, who had been watching from her left, and she found her heart pounding so quickly she thought she might be ill.  When her eyes landed on her fiancé’s, however, she found that he seemed to be trying hard not to grin. 

            “Someone had to beat you eventually, Father,” he said, the laugh he couldn’t entirely stifle permeating his voice.  “How long’s it been, anyway?”

            “Thirty years,” Lucius muttered, shaking his head.  “Well done, Miss Granger.”

            “Hermione, sir.  And thank you,” Hermione added quickly, inclining her head to him. 

            She still found the whole idea of Wizard’s Chess barbaric, as she had the first time she’d seen Ron and Harry play at Hogwarts.  But after the war, when she’d been looking for something to fill her time between trips to help in the rebuilding of destroyed places and increasingly intimate encounters with the boy she’d spent so long hating, she’d wanted to exercise her mind, and so she’d read as much as she could on the subject of the game.  She’d beaten Ron—which had earned her the silent treatment for a few days—and eventually Draco, who had suggested they play for the first time on their third date.  She’d learned quickly that Draco was an excellent strategist, and she’d had only four pieces left when she’d beaten him, which had made the match much closer than she would’ve liked.

            He’d warned her then that he’d one day make her face his father, who’d taught him everything he knew and had a reputation within their circles for being unbeatable.  According to Draco, Lucius had only lost one match, and it had been before his birth. 

            Until today, that was.

            “Hermione,” Lucius repeated.  “That was astounding.” The words sounded pained but earnest, and Hermione believed this had less to do with admitting her skill at the game than with the loss itself.  She knew she would’ve been devastated, were their places reversed.

            “Thank you,” she said.  “We’ll have to play again.”

            Lucius nodded, and Draco reached down to give Hermione’s hand a squeeze.

            “We’re going to go on a tour,” he said.  “We’ll be back before dinner’s ready.”

            “It won’t be long,” said Narcissa.  “If you aren’t back, we’ll wait.”

            “Thanks, Mother.  Shall we?” Draco smiled down at Hermione and gave her hand a gentle pull.  She stood and followed him toward the door, wishing she knew what to say before they left the study but finding herself uncharacteristically at a loss for words. 

            Draco led her into the hall, and when they’d moved a few doors away from his parents, a bright grin broke across his face, his grey eyes lighting up with delight.  “You are a wonder.  Have I told you that, lately?”

            He moved closer and rested his hand at the back of her head, keeping it from hitting the wall when he gently backed her into it and leaned down to meet her lips.

            Hermione closed her eyes and kissed him softly, laying a hand against his chest.  When he pulled back and leaned his forehead against hers, she smiled.

            “I must admit, I love hearing it,” she teased.

            These little compliments and gentle touches were a wonderful switch from the name-calling of their school days. 

* * *

_“Granger! Granger, wait!”_

_Hermione kept walking, shaking her head and trying to tune out the voice from behind her.  She was determined not to give Draco Malfoy the chance to get a rise out of her.  Not now, not when she’d been working so hard to piece things back together in her own life as well as in the world.  She’d been helping Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt to decide where to send Healers, and she was late for lunch with Ginny._

_“Hermione!”_

_She froze.  She couldn’t remember Draco ever calling her by her first name before, and this was enough to crash her train of thought and make her grudgingly give him a moment of her time._

_“Yes?” she asked, resisting the urge to grit her teeth._

_She heard his footsteps thundering closer, and when he made his way around to stand in front of her, pale blond hair and grey eyes swinging into view, he was clearly out of breath._

_“I… I haven’t had the chance to speak with you since the decision.”_

_Hermione raised a brow.  She knew what he meant, of course—the Ministry’s decision to acquit his family of all charges related to serving Voldemort in light of his mother’s lie to her former master that had saved Harry’s life and their desire to aid the Ministry in its efforts to undo the damage.  Hermione wondered, though, where Draco planned to take the conversation._

_“I wanted…” He drew in a breath and let out a short sigh.  “I wanted to thank you.”_

_Hermione made a mental note to start preparing for the apocalypse as soon as the conversation ended._

_“You did?”_

_Draco shifted his weight from one foot to the other.  “I’m sure Potter didn’t persuade them on his own.  He has about the same skill at persuasion as a Mandrake.”_

_Despite herself, Hermione stifled a laugh.  She blinked and rolled her shoulders backward._ Pull yourself together, _she thought._ This is Malfoy.  _“I might’ve helped a bit.”_

_“I’d like to make it up to you.  I mean, I know I can’t exactly do anything for you that’s enough to repay you for keeping my family together, but… let me buy you something to eat.”_

_Her cheeks burned, and she was certain a blush was creeping over them.  “That’s not   necessary.  Thank you.”_

_“I didn’t mean to sound—I know you don’t need any form of charity, and that’s not what this is.  I truly want to do something for you.  I don’t think you understand how grateful I am.”_

_He glanced over her shoulder and laid his hand on her arm to pull her carefully aside as a pair of wizards passed, deep in conversation, and she tried to ignore the stupid racing of her heart at the touch._

_“Really,” he continued, lowering his voice as he met her eyes again.  “I already lost my father to Azkaban once, and it means quite a bit to me not to have to go through that again.”_

_Hermione softened.  No matter what they’d been through in the past, Draco seemed sincere now, and she couldn’t deny that mending things between them seemed like a decent use of her time.  It was another war-torn thing that needed more than a bit of care._

_“All right,” she said with a nod.  “Where and when?”_

* * *

Draco grinned and laced his fingers through hers, giving her a pull into the drawing room and closing the door behind them.  Hermione looked around at the ornately carved and delicately upholstered furniture and wondered whether she would ever stop feeling out of place at Malfoy Manor.  She’d visited a number of times, but only for short intervals, and she’d yet to see the entire house.  _I don’t know if I ever will,_ she thought as she followed Draco to a dark green chaise and sat beside him.  _I wonder if he’s even been in every room._

Draco lay back and gave Hermione’s hand a tug, and she lay beside him, slipping her leg between his as he slid his free arm around her middle.  She leaned close to meet his lips softly. 

* * *

_“You can’t be serious.”_

_She spoke through the hands that had flown to her mouth in shock when he’d dropped to one knee, and she knew those weren’t the right words, but they’d left her mouth unbidden and were, truly, her first reaction._

_“I don’t think that’s an answer,” he said, his grin faltering just slightly._

_“I—of course I’d love to,” said Hermione quickly, glancing from Draco’s face to the ring glistening in its box in his outstretched palm.  “Nothing would make me happier.  But I… Draco, you know I’m—”_

_“I don’t give a damn about your blood.  Hermione, I love you, and I want you by my side.  If you’ll have me.”_

_She dropped to her knees and threw her arms around his neck as she kissed him more passionately than she ever had before, ignoring the tears streaming down her cheeks._

* * *

“I can get used to this,” she muttered, nuzzling his cheek and then drawing back slightly to look into his eyes. 

            “To what?” he asked, his fingers trailing gently along her back. 

            “Being here with you.”

            “I should hope so.” Draco chuckled.  “I’d prefer not to have to call off the wedding.”

            “Hush.” She pecked his lips once more and let out a soft sigh.  “I just hope your father doesn’t hate me too much.”

“Hate you?” Draco’s blond brows shot upward.  “No, no, you don’t understand.” He shook his head, clearly trying to control his laughter but doing quite a poor job.

            “What don’t I understand?” Hermione gave his chest a light thump.  She was ridiculously embarrassed by the chess situation and by the fact that her fiancé seemed to find it so bloody amusing.  “Explain it to me, then.”

            “If anything, this will prove to him that you’re more than a worthy match for me.” Draco brushed a brown lock out of Hermione’s face and pressed his lips to her forehead. 

            “And how do you figure that?” she grumbled.  He was difficult to stay angry with at the best of times, and when he insisted on kissing her, it was all she could do to keep a straight face.  She was determined not to give up her indignation so easily, and she forced herself to keep a slight edge to her tone. 

            “Because.” Draco smirked and kissed her cheek.  “He has to respect your intelligence.  I suppose I haven’t told you who the only other person to beat him was, have I?”

            “No, you haven’t.” Hermione sighed, grudgingly allowing her tone to soften.  She knew Draco had a point, and if she’d earned his father’s respect, the years of tension would finally be at an end.  She found herself breathing a bit more easily. 

            “It was my mother.  Back when they were in school.”

            Hermione’s eyes widened.  Draco had never mentioned anything about Narcissa playing Wizard’s Chess.  “Really?”

            Draco nodded.  “Father doesn’t talk about it often, but he told me once that it’s how he knew she was the one and that they were always going to keep each other on their toes.”

            Hermione let out an incredulous laugh.  “That’s adorable.”

            “Yes, well, I wouldn’t tell him you heard that story.”

            Hermione’s heart missed a beat, and she looked up at the sound of Narcissa’s voice from the doorway.  The blonde was smiling as she leaned against the doorframe and glanced from Hermione to Draco and back.  Hermione sat up quickly, but Draco kept his arm around her waist and gave her hand a tug to pull her down again.

            “At least not right now,” Narcissa continued.  “The reminder of another loss might be too much, and I don’t particularly want to upset him.”

            “Of course,” said Hermione quickly, certain that she’d turned a deeper red than her future mother-in-law’s gown. 

            “In any event, dinner’s ready.  Please join us.” Narcissa inclined her head to them and started off down the corridor. 

            “I may not be able to get used to having people around to walk in on us,” Hermione muttered, getting to her feet and offering a hand to Draco, who slid his arms around his waist when he stood. 

            “One thing at a time,” he said, pressing his lips to her cheek. 


End file.
